


The Nights

by berrychowder



Series: "Based On..." Fics [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Exhibitionism, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Post-November 20 Interrogation (Persona 5), Sexual Content, Sleeping Together, only grinding tho, realllyy minor tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrychowder/pseuds/berrychowder
Summary: Remembering is the same as reminiscing but reminiscing is not the same as remembering.In which they both put on acts- Akira isn't carefree and Akechi isn't uncaring, but maybe things will still turn out okay.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Kurosu Jun/Suou Tatsuya
Series: "Based On..." Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773163
Comments: 8
Kudos: 150





	The Nights

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired the fic is The Nights by Avicii ( https://youtu.be/2S0QhGGO1gQ )  
> \--  
> i hate html so much im not going through the effort to conceal that link  
> \--  
> My Tumblr is Asthmanian, the same as here.  
> \--  
> Only rated as mature because of the slight sexual content, a description of a GSW being cleaned (gross), and swearing.

The vibrant red and orange of the sunset wash over the attic, reflecting off of dust particles that never seem to disappear. The sunshine warms the unmade futon and casts languid shadows across the floor and walls. Quiet chatter and the soft clinking of china filters from the cafe below as the afternoon rush comes to an end and customers begin to take their leave. 

Soon enough, the familiar chime of the welcoming bell is heard. The stairs creak under the weight of footsteps- they’re careful and hesitant as if they’ll vanish with a mere thought of doubt. Encouraged, the cause of those footsteps arrives at the top of the stairwell.

“I do hope that you weren’t waiting for long,” Akechi says cheerfully, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. His uniform has been freshly pressed and washed, giving him an even more stiff appearance. Firmly grasped in his left hand is his aluminum briefcase which, surprisingly, isn't just for show. As usual, he is the perfect picture of a charming young man. 

Akira’s joints pop as he twists his body to face Akechi. “I knew you would come.” His hair is messier than usual from lounging around all day. Not only are his glasses placed on the window sill, allowing a full unobstructed view of his face, but it seems that he never even bothered to properly dress for company, still in sleepwear.

Akechi hums and gently places his briefcase beneath the rickety table that Akira has precariously stacked a heavy old television, retro gaming system, and somewhat modern DVD player on. None of the devices are currently in use, though Akira longs to listen in on the news regarding Shido and the Phantom Thieves- the exact opposite of Akechi, he’s sure. 

“You can drop the act.” Akira reminds him, adjusting his position on the futon to make room. 

“Of course.” The smile melts from Akechi’s face in an instant, replaced with a displeased frown and a cold stare. “I’ve taken care of Shido...” He says, shrugging off his blazer. He neatly folds and places it on the cat hair covered couch. “For now.” 

Akira merely nods, and Akechi’s eyes narrow in dissatisfaction. He loosens his tie before moving to unbutton his white dress shirt. 

“Do you plan to continue your pathetic moping?” Akechi sneers. “If you wish to stay on your so-called _moral high ground_ , the calling card will need to be sent soon. My excuses will not buy you any more time.” His face is flushed cherry in frustration as he rips off his gloves and throws them, along with his shirt, into a crumpled pile by his blazer. 

“I wanted to give you as much time as possible to heal. This won’t be an easy fight.” Akira shrugs and pulls the medical kit out from under the bed. 

“We have greater concerns right now.” Akechi’s features softened, his sneer now a cocky smirk. “In fact, I’m a bit offended you think so little of me that you expected me to not make a quick recovery.” 

“Right,” Akira nods. “Lay down.” 

Akechi doesn’t protest this time, a vast improvement compared to only a few days ago when his pride made asking for help feel like pulling teeth. He kicks his polished dress shoes off to the side, leaving him with more clothes off rather than on. Already well acquainted with the process, Akechi joins Akira on the bed, the latter of which busies himself with fluffing and stacking the few pillows he has to make this uncomfortable experience as comfortable as possible. Akechi lies back before Akira is given the chance to finish the task. 

“Is this okay?” Akira asks anyway. Akechi sighs contently, which Akira takes as a yes. 

Making a show of snapping on some blue latex gloves, Akira first examines the surrounding area of Akechi’s abdomen for any abnormal discoloration or swelling. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, considering the circumstances, his fingers glide over the bandages- hesitating. He glances at Akechi, silently asking for permission. Akechi closes his eyes before taking a deep breath and nodding. His arms go to cover his face- he never has any sort of desire to look. 

Akira begins by dipping a cotton ball in saline solution. Pulling on the tape might cause more damage or pain, it’s best to soak it for easy removal. Gradually, he’s able to peel the strips away, only slightly tugging on the skin. The bandage itself is dry, but the dressing underneath is covered in various fluids that have accumulated over the course of the day. He throws it all into an empty plastic bag. 

“These need to be changed more. Everything looks okay, but... you should stop by in the mornings, as well. I don’t mind.” Akira suggests, looking for any other signs of infection. 

“Perhaps,” Akechi mumbles. 

Akira wrinkles his nose at that, preparing another cotton ball. “Maybe you’ll take this more seriously when you develop sepsis.” He dabs saline on the gunshot wound, maybe a bit harsher than he intended to because Akechi hisses in pain. “Sorry.” He whispers, not entirely meaning it. 

Akira doesn’t blame Akechi for not wanting to see. It’s not pretty, even if the condition has improved over the course of the week. It’s red and still slightly swollen, right above his right hip. The bullet itself narrowly avoided a major artery and lodged itself into his appendix, effectively rupturing it. It’s an open wound, which calls for a greater risk of an infection developing. It can’t be stitched up or even stapled, at least not until the extra fluid drains and the swelling goes down. According to Takemi, he should be on strict bed rest for three weeks at the bare minimum, _months_ of taking it easy. He really shouldn’t be joining the others on this heist, but it’s better to bring him along to be supervised rather than leaving him behind to sneak off on his own. 

Akira rips open a package of sterilized gauze, smearing some antibacterial cream on it before placing it over the injury; securing it with a new bandage and medical tape. He rids himself of the gloves, throwing them into the bag and tying it up to throw away later. 

“All done,” Akira says, cleaning up. 

Opening his eyes, Akechi watches Akira slide the medical kit back under the bed. He’s curious as to what else is stashed away down there; covered in dust, no doubt. 

“Have you taken any of your meds?” Akira asks, spotting Akechi wincing as he attempts to sit up by himself. 

“Obviously.” Akechi rolls his eyes. “The pain is tolerable with the medication, crippling without it.” He uses Akira’s shoulder to prop himself against the wall. 

Darkness begins to creep into the room as dusk fades into night. Eventually, Akira tires of his slouched position and leans into Akechi’s side, who promptly wraps an arm around his waist. The silence and chance to relax is gladly welcomed. 

Both of them aren’t exactly sure how this started; this sudden closeness, that is. The feelings have been there for months, but neither had ever acted upon them until recently- namely the day Akechi was shot by the warped cognitive version of himself. He doesn’t particularly remember what happened after he was hit. He remembers his parting words to the Phantom Thieves, Akira’s screams, the screeching of metal… He didn’t even notice that he had fallen unconscious from the blood loss until he woke up hours later post-op. 

_The lights were dimmed, which Akechi was incredibly grateful for due to the distant feeling of a migraine beginning to form. He was laying on a firm white cot, with colorful cords and tubes connecting him to various machines and an IV drip. Blankets covered him, but he could feel the scratchy fabric rubbing against his bare skin, though not to the point of causing any irritation. Looking down, he couldn’t spot any sort of wristband used to provide his identity or any other basic information about him- he wasn’t in a normal hospital. Did Shido already track him down?_

_“Thank you, Takemi. I owe you.” Said an oh so familiar voice._

_“Consider us even. This is the least I can do.” A woman. Was that Takemi? “He should be waking up soon, if not now. He’ll be confused, and possibly in pain, if he’s jostled anything. I’ll give you a few moments of privacy before I perform a check-up.”_

_The door in front of the room creaked open, and Akechi froze._

_“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Akira said sheepishly, standing in the doorway. The sight of him didn’t ease his worries in the slightest._

_“I suppose we are long overdue for a discussion.” Akechi settled, crossing his arms over his chest._

_Akira closed the door and dragged a chair over to the cot, sitting down._

_“Discussion…” Akira repeated. “No. I want an explanation, just as I have given you. Why did you think there was no way out? You didn’t have to kill those people. You didn’t have to… have to kill me...” Akira trailed off, and for a split second, Akechi thought he felt remorse, but it quickly faded and was replaced by pure anger._

_“Please,” Akechi growled. “You’re acting as if I am indebted to you. I owe you nothing.”_

_Akira shot up instantly, his hands curling into tight fists. “I saved your life, Akechi!”_

_“I didn’t ask for this!” Akechi yelled. “If you would have just stayed out of it-!”_

_“You’d be dead! You would be dead and it would be my fault!” Akira screamed back. “I just want to help you! Wh- Why won’t you let me?! You’re the only one…” Akira cried, hot tears running down his cheeks. He sunk back down into his seat, ripping his glasses off his face as he tried to control his sobbing._

_“You’re just as selfish and weak as everyone else.” Akechi seethed. “This charade has all been for your own personal gain. Your life holds no purpose or value without the encouragement of others. Too average and plain to be worth something. You thrive from praise, just as I do.”_

_Akira’s eyes were wide and glassy, his complexion a sickly white. Stunned._

_“You aren’t a good person, Kurusu Akira.” He continued. “You pretend to care about others, but in the end, it’s all about you. You’re just afraid of being alone, aren’t you?”_

_Akira left._

Akechi awakes with a crick in his neck, and despite the frigid temperature of the room, covered in sweat. It’s silent and dark, save for the slivers of pale moonlight that dance on the floor. Akira is still fast asleep beside him, not a care in the world. 

He maneuvers Akira into a more pleasant sleeping arrangement before quietly slipping out of bed. The comforter has been pushed into a wrinkled ball onto the floor, and Akechi cares enough to pick it up and drape it over Akira, who has curled into a ball much tighter than the one that the blanket was originally in. 

The amount of blind trust that Akira has in him is almost laughable. 

Passing by the couch, he grabs his shirt and throws it on, not bothering to button it. He braces himself against the rail with one hand and presses the other against his far from healed injury as he blindly stumbles down the stairs. The increasing pain tells him he’s about due for another pill. Too bad he didn’t bring any with him. 

He helps himself to a glass of tap water, taking a seat at his usual place at the bar. Vaguely, he wonders what time it is. The streets are bare and the moon is already high in the sky, so the trains have no doubt stopped running. He’ll be staying the night here whether he likes it or not. 

The bittersweet aroma of coffee is as strong as ever, and though it usually provides him with a sense of calm and peace, it does little to quell his unease. 

The death of his mother taught him an important lesson at a very early age: Never get close to anyone. 

For years, Akechi held every single person he met at arm’s length. The few friendly foster families that he was placed with, he kept his head down and feelings to himself. Classmates would invite him to friendly gatherings, he’d use his social status to reject them every time. His fans saw him through screens, every carefully taken picture and charming smile was a lie to make him seem unattainable but left just enough hope for them to fight to get his attention.

Sae-san’s presence in his life has always been appreciated. Just like him, she kept their relationship strictly professional and at a distance. They were merely coworkers, but in another life, he would have possibly even considered her a close friend. He had only realized that he was becoming attached when he nearly snapped at Shido for even suggesting a mental shutdown. 

And then Akira happened. 

‘And then Akira happened’ sums up the past few months of his beyond hectic life quite well. He knew that day at the TV station that Akira would become a future obstacle. His confidence, his assertiveness, his ability to simply _not care_ … it baffled Akechi. No one, at least not with his celebrity status, has ever talked to him the way Akira did- like an average person. Normal. 

He hated it.

In a twisted turn of fate, this person who had nothing somehow had everything. Everything that Akechi couldn’t have, couldn’t _afford_ to have. He struggled and fought his way to the top, only for it to be mocked by this insignificant piece of human trash. Because of Akira, everything he worked for began to crumble and crash down, and he just let him do it. 

Why? Because he had already forgotten the lesson that he is reminded of daily. 

He got too close, and now they’ll both pay the price. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees shadows swirl and flicker. 

“What are you doing.” He says dully. 

“I was trying to scare you.” Akira slurs, stepping out of the darkness. 

“I’ve looked you in the eyes and shot you point-blank in the head. You don’t scare me.” 

Akira stares at him for a long minute. “So… do you want some coffee?” 

Akechi blinks. “No. Why are you up?” 

“Cause you’re up.” He replies simply, and Akechi can’t find the energy to chastise him for it. “What are you stressing about?” 

“My mother.” Akechi finds himself being honest. “I don’t believe that she would be happy with the man I have become. A monster, just like my father.” He places his now empty glass onto the counter. “She- She would have liked you, though.” 

Akira settles into the chair adjacent to his left. He doesn’t speak, only takes Akechi’s hand into his own and squeezes it. 

“I don’t recall you ever mentioning your parents. Did your arrest cause a rift, or was it always there? I’d imagine your family is quite traditional.” Akechi pries. 

“My family is far from traditional.” Akira laughs, and then more seriously, “they’ve always supported me. My father, Jun, texts me almost every day. My… other father, Tatsuya, is a bit more distant. I think he blames himself.” 

“Other father, hm? I assume that is what you mean by ‘far from traditional’.” Akechi acknowledges. 

Akira nods. “Among other things…” His eyes bore into Akechi- searching. “The day I left, Tatsuya pulled me aside and said something that I never really understood until recently. He said, ‘one day you’ll leave this world behind, so live a life you will remember’. It’s almost like he knew what would happen, because I met you. Maybe it was fate.” 

“Perhaps so,” and Akechi is yanking him forward. 

His lips are cold and dry, but Akechi looks over it in favor of the absolute euphoria that he feels when Akira attempts to bring him closer. 

“C’mere.” Akechi murmurs, guiding Akira to a nearby booth. He pushes him onto the cushion, and soon enough Akira’s arms are wrapping around his neck and his legs are spreading to accommodate Akechi as he crawls onto the bench. Akira pulls him into another kiss, and Akechi lets himself fall on top of him. 

As Akechi slides his tongue into Akira’s mouth, he recalls a time in Kichijoji when he was disgusted at the sight of a young couple doing the exact same thing, though much more publicly. Akira’s hands thread through his hair, keeping them close. 

Akechi pulls away, and in the remnants of light, he can see Akira’s swollen lips, parted as he pants and glistening with spit. He moves down to Akira’s neck, sucking harshly on a spot just below his jaw, and Akira _moans_. Akechi continues to bite and suck until the expanse of Akira’s neck is a mess of purple and red splotches. 

“For a phantom thief, you’re pretty damn loud.” Akechi growls, grinding his half-hard dick against Akira’s ass. 

“I- I’ve never-” Akira stutters, his eyes screwing shut as he moans again. 

“Figured as much. No wonder you’re so naive-” Akechi’s hand trails under Akira’s shirt, barely brushing over a nipple when Akira whines. “-and sensitive.” Akechi finishes. 

He backs away, and Akira reluctantly lets go of the tight grip he has on his hair and shirt. Akechi reaches between the two of them to fumble with his belt buckle, struggling to unclasp it with only one hand available. He’s finally able to rip it away, and considers using it to bind Akira’s wrists together when his body involuntarily shudders. 

The belt falls to the ground with a sharp _clank_ as an intense burning sensation completely envelops him. He hunches over as his stomach cramps, gritting his teeth. “ _S_ _hit._ ”

“Akechi?” Akira says, concern laced in his voice. 

“ _Hurts_.” Akechi chokes out, and Akira scrambles to sit up. 

“Oh… _Oh._ I don’t- you didn’t bring your pills with you?” 

“I did, that’s precisely why I haven’t taken them.” Akechi spats. 

“Well, you don’t have to be a bitch about it.” Akira quips. If Akechi still has the vigor to be sarcastic then there’s no reason to worry about it. 

Akechi shoots him a dirty look. “Watch it.” 

“Just chill out and breathe. I’ll get you some water.” Akira manages to crawl over Akechi, who is now leaning back and staring blankly at the ceiling. 

They haven’t really classified their relationship. ‘Rivals’ has been thrown around once or twice, but that label was applied during a time in which they were borderline enemies. Akira certainly considers them to be much more than that, dare he say lovers, but Akechi has never been particular about it. 

Akira has thought about asking him directly, but Akechi has always been iffy when it comes to talking about anything that even slightly has to do with himself. Akira has to be very mindful of Akechi’s mood to even try to initiate conversations pertaining to more personal subjects. It’s probably best to not say anything at all. 

He sets the ice water down a bit roughly, and some of it sloshes over the side and spills on the table. Akechi doesn’t seem to mind as he downs the majority of it in only a few seconds. 

“So is this a friend with benefits kind of deal or..?” Akira questions, completely ignoring what he just told himself. 

“Wh-What?!” Akechi sputters. “No! No. That wasn’t my intention at all. I always thought of you as my...” He pauses, his fingers drum nervously on the wood. “Well, my significant other.”

“Is that so?” Akira grins. “That makes me feel better.” 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Akechi says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“We should go on a date.” Akira suggests. 

“Ha.” Akechi mocks. “I’m on thin ice and you’re supposed to be dead. Us being in public together is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“That’s a shame.” Akira says, a bit dejected. 

“After Shido.” 

“Huh?”

“When we change Shido’s heart, I’ll take you somewhere. A nice restaurant and a peaceful stroll through the park. You are the romantic type, correct?” Akechi winks, and Akira snorts. 

“You know me so well, Akechi.” 

“Goro.” Akechi replies.

When Akira leans in for a kiss, Goro thinks that whatever anguish that might come from getting too close to Akira will have been worth it just for this moment. 

* * *

“Akechi-kun, I’ve brought your medication. I had Sis stop by your apartment to pick it up.” Makoto states, handing it to him. 

Admittedly, Akechi feels a tad awkward surrounded by the rest of the Phantom Thieves without Akira next to him. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Akira is busy in the restroom frantically trying to hide and cover up the abundance of hickies he had acquired earlier today. 

“Ah, thank you… How did you know that I needed it?” Akechi frowns. Did Akira message them?

Futaba giggles and triumphantly shoves her phone in Akechi’s face. “Aren’t you forgetting something, detective? Leblanc is bugged. I know everything.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The wound cleansing bit is totally not accurate lmao. I've never been shot.  
> \--  
> "god talking about my dead parents makes me so horny"  
> can you tell that i have never written smut of any form before?? i was so embarrassed how do people do this  
> there are so many tokyo ghoul references in this  
> \--  
> where is morgana? i dont fuckin know  
> \--  
> im so sorry this is late happy brithday goro


End file.
